


A Monster Curse

by Deepest



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Magica Being a Horrid Witch, Monsters, Sweet Baby Ducklings Don't Deserve This, Transformation, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 06:49:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepest/pseuds/Deepest
Summary: Magica dares Scrooge, if he's so "great", to add the heads of his children to his trophy wall.Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby must learn to live with their transformations, and Scrooge promises himself that he'll undo this wretched curse.Whatever the cost.





	A Monster Curse

Scrooge took a running jump at Magica, his incessant yells and curses deafening even to his own ears as he locked his sights on the malicious mallard.    
The sorceress had the smarts to look scared for her life for a good second or two as Scrooge plummeted. 

 

In the end, just as Scrooge could feel his fingers flexing to wrap around her scrawny neck, Magica threw an infuriating cackle in his face and disappeared with a flourish and a puff of green smoke.

 

Scrooge tussled with the dirt and grime for a moment in a blind rage before tossing back his beak and screaming out, 

“ **_Next time, you devilish old hag! You’ll pay for this!_ ** ”

 

With his yell dying in the breeze, Scrooge spun on his scraped-up knees and ran back to where his great-nephews and niece lay dotted about in silence, like someone had just left them there. Scrooge berated himself as he offhandedly remembered that someone did.

 

Looking on the wee ones now, his old heart still beat with fear and hatred from that moment the witch had cast her evil eyes on them, and the blast of dark magic that had followed it. Skidding to a stop on his knees again in front of the first child in his path, Scrooge nudged the boy and whispered encouragements as he stirred. Scrooge’s heart clenched as the true measure of this failure made itself known in the dim moonlight.

 

His kids, coming to from their stupor, were changed. Not looking so much like the normal, precious ducklings they were just 10 minutes ago.

 

Dewey had it the worst, on first sight. Scrooge watched him twitch and tremble as he woke up, remembering the outrage and fright he’d felt as his nephew in blue had stretched and sprouted and  _ mutated  _ before his eyes. 

Scrooge remembered Dewey crying out. No doubt such a transformation had been painful and confusing for the bairn.

 

The middle child had grown by several inches, his limbs longer, hands and feet bigger, tougher. The kid was dark blue all over… covered in a thick, wiry coat and patches of pale skin on his soles, palms and…

 

His face. Scrooge gasped as he watched Dewey turn and blink hazily up at him, mouth working to try and form some kind of sentence. His beak was gone. In its place a short snout, complete with a wet, black nose. Scrooge knows the kid is a Sasquatch, but doesn’t tell him that yet. 

 

Instead, the old billionaire is distracted by movement from another bundle of limbs a few feet away.

 

Scrooge gave Dewey as comforting a touch as he could think to give in his haste to get to his next waking charge. Dewey seemed to slump under the brush of Scrooge’s hand on his furry head and rested his cheek back on the ground as his Uncle rushed away.

 

Huey. Scrooge felt his shoulders slump in relief as he scanned the boy for anything amiss, not finding anything bizarre about his appearance.

With a light sigh, Scrooge leaned over his red nephew to softly call him to full consciousness. He smiled tiredly as Huey’s eyebrows pinched at the disturbance, and set a hand on his shoulder - 

 

“ **_Ggrrrrhh…_ ** ”

 

Scrooge snatched his hand away, reeling back at the gutteral sound rumbling like a lawnmower from the knocked-out child in front of him. Scrooge looked on with wide eyes as, accompanying the growl, the child’s frown pulled back to show off a set of huge, sharp teeth and black gums. Two rows of fangs filled the kids mouth, interlocked like a steel trap as Huey clenched his little jaw.

 

Scrooge sat in shocked, stunned silence as the growling grew weaker, and then stopped as the child’s body relaxed.

 

It’s then that Scrooge noticed the growl had frightened someone else besides himself. From behind him, Scrooge heard a shuffling of dirt as Dewey finally woke up fully.

 

“... Uncl’ Scr’ge…?”

 

Scrooge shushed him quietly as he hurried back to the boys side, helping him sit up as the boy had not yet regained control of his limbs. “ _ Aye, it’s me lad. Ye got te keep it down alright? I’m gonna check on the others.” _

 

Dewey’s eyes squinted as he looked around dazedly, _ “Wh’ was that… sound.... Gr’ling…” _

 

Scrooge winced. “ _ It wasn’ae anythin’ to worry aboot, lad. Stay here, alright...? And watch Huey, he’s over there.  _ ” Scrooge loathed to think that his other nephew would need to be watched, like a wild animal. But as things were now… “ _ Don’t go near ‘im, alright? Just watch ‘im and tell me if he moves. _ ”

 

He waited for Dewey to nod at him, confusion evident in his bleary eyes, before he got quietly back up and made his way over to his last two kids, hoping beyond hope they were in a better boat than his other two.

 

Louie and Webby lay sprawled only a couple feet apart from each other, back to back. Upon getting just a few feet closer, Scrooge immediately noticed something drastically different about Webbigail.

 

He dropped to his knees next to his niece, blood pumping and dread sitting in his gut like a black lump of coal. 

 

In the darkness from a few feet away Scrooge hadn’t noticed it at first. But Webby had been coloured a depressing grey from top to bottom. All her feathers were dull and ashy, nothing like their usual downy white.

 

And speaking of feathers, Scrooge held back a groan at the sight of Webby’s arms. Gone were her lithe little muscles, hands and fingers. There instead were wings. Real wings.

The same dull grey as the rest of her, they extended an extra fore-arms length away from her torso. And there on the arcs, where her hands were supposed to be, were a pair of little claws. 

 

Webby’s legs and beak, as well, were a dark grey. And instead of webbed feet, Scrooge saw a set of sharp-looking talons. 

A harpy. He could hardly believe it. First a Sasquatch, than  _ Huey _ , then a harpy.

Scrooge rubbed at his forehead and tried to ease his murderous expression before he began gently shaking his niece awake, wary of whatever horrid personality changes might greet him…

 

Webby’s eye’s scrunched and fluttered as she was coaxed awake, and when her eyes finally opened, Scrooge was relieved that she, at least, seemed cognizant.

 

“Scrooge…?”

 

“ _ Webby, m’dear… _ ” Scrooge gave her head an affectionate pat. “ _ How are ye feelin’? _ ”

 

Webby winced, “Sore… my arms…  _ w-wings… _ ”

 

Webby’s eyes widened dramatically as she flexed her new muscles. Scrooge gave her a tired smile.

 

“I’ll explain later, Webbigail. Can ye get up?” Scrooge watched as Webby experimentally sat up, a bit wobbly but altogether stable. “Do me a favour and go check on Dewey, darlin’.”

 

Webby looked around a bit before her eyes caught sight of the middle triplet. Scrooge could have laughed at the face she made at her best friend just then, but couldn’t find the spirit so soon. He let Webby toddle off on unsteady legs as he turned his sight on his last kid.

 

The codger quietly shuffled the foot or two’s distance towards Louie. The boy was facing away from him, but Scrooge resigned himself and his tired old limbs to examining his nephew from where he was.

 

Cautiously preparing himself for the worst, Scrooge eyed the boy critically, finding not much amiss. He was dirty, like the others were too, and not stirring as quickly as the others had. Scrooge suffered a brief moment of panic before his frantic eyes saw his little chest expand in the next. 

 

There came a muffled series of thumps from behind Scrooge before a big blotch of blue popped into the corner of Scrooge’s eye. Looking, Scrooge was startled at Dewey’s new appearance despite having seen it before.

 

The boy still seemed a tad out of it, but Scrooge gathered from his big, round eyes that he’d finally noticed… himself. Dewey’s black nose wriggled as he carefully worked his mouth, “H-hey, Scrooge…”

 

Scrooge frowned, “Ye feelin’ alright, lad?”

 

Dewey shrugged, “It’s s-setting in. Can’t believe I have a n-nose.”

 

“Hmph… Is yer brother still unconscious?” Scrooge looked behind him, where it was still a bit too dim to make out much besides the two small shapes on the ground. Webby sat a respectful distance away from the eldest nephew.

 

“He m-made some weird sounds.” Dewey seemed a bit disturbed. “But he’s still out.”

 

Scrooge sighed deeply.

 

“Is Louie okay?”

 

“I dunno, lad.” Scrooge replied honestly. He took the chance to lean a bit over the youngest, scrutinizing his profile. “I’ve been tryn’a answer that.”

 

With a few heavy footsteps, Dewey took a seat in front of his brother, blue face pinched in concentration. “...What the heck is up with his beak?”

 

“His what?” Scrooge leaned over further, letting Dewey lean away to offer a better view. In this light, Scrooge can see a faint glistening on the boys little beak. A gleam that wasn’t there before.

 

“It’s the same with his legs!” 

 

Scrooge followed Dewey’s line of sight, and saw the same sheen on Louie’s knees and webbed feet. Inspecting closer, Scrooge could see what was causing the phenomena.

 

Scales. Green, intricately interlocked scales not unlike those of a…

 

“He’s waking up!”

 

Scrooge couldn’t have kept the panicked edge out of his warning if he’d tried. “Look away, lad!  _ Don’t look at his-! _ ”

 

Scrooge could see the exact moment Dewey locked eyes with his waking brother, and held back a gasp as in the next second, his nephew keeled to the side in perfect stasis. As though the boy had been turned into a statue.

 

Louie, who’d been trying to keep his eyes open, was startled awake immediately as Dewey’s furry head thumped against the ground in front of him.

 

The boy reeled back with a yelp, and Scrooge, from his place behind him, slapped a hand over his eyes.

 

Louie struggled in his grip, but Scrooge held fast. “Louie, lad! Louie, calm down ye wriggling rascal!” 

 

“Scrooge?!” Louie stopped struggling, but was tensed like a coiled spring. “What’s going on? What the heck was that ugly, smelly-”

 

“Yer brother.” Scrooge tightened his arm around the boys shoulders, trying to keep from letting the lump of dread in his lungs impede his speech, and kept the hand over his eyes firm. “Listen lad, yeh’ve been cursed. Yeh’ve all been cursed. I can’t let ye open yer eyes.”

 

“ _ Cursed?! _ ” Louie squeaked, and Scrooge felt the beginning dampness of tears beneath his palm. “What the heck is wrong with me? A-and Dewey…”

 

Louie’s arms flailed blindly towards Dewey’s solid mass on the ground in front of him. Scrooge couldn’t comprehend how Louie had known which brother it was that lay in front of him, but was too distracted to care. 

 

Scrabbling footsteps came from behind him as one of the other kids rushed over to see what the commotion was. But besides that, Scrooge swallowed a little pip of emotion in his throat as he realized that his nephew had  _ not  _ turned to stone.

Dewey’s eyes still shone with recognition, though they stared ahead still trapped in the same expression as when he’d met Louie’s gaze. They boy was paralysed, but not stone. Still alive. Scrooge could easily get one of his magic contacts to reanimate him. He’d be fine.

Scrooge told Webby so as she gasped and flapped over her best friend worriedly, grey feathers rumpled in distress.

 

“ _ B-but he’s-! _ ”

 

“Paralysed. But not harmed, alright? He’ll be okay lass.” Scrooge smiled at her, exhaustion catching up to him. In his arms, Louie was still.

 

“Uncle Scrooge…” The boy shivered, “What’s wrong with us? And… d-did I…?”

 

The old man could fill in the gaps. He relaxed his grip on the boy and gave him a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “It wasn’ae yer fault, Louie. We had no way a’ knowin’ yeh’d turned inta a  _ Basilisk  _ of all things…”

 

Webby’s eyes shone in awe. The dampness under Scrooge’s hand became a steady flow of hot tears as Louie began to whimper. Not for the first time since the evil hag had puffed herself away, Scrooge promised himself that Magica would be a stain on a wall if he ever saw her again. And then, as his eyes roamed over the body of Dewey still stationary against the ground, it occured to Scrooge that he was still one charge short.

 

“Keep yer eyes closed  _ tight  _ Louie.” Scrooge instructed, and he let his hand fall away. It was quickly replaced by both of Louie’s smaller hands, which stemmed his tears as he snivelled. 

 

Scrooge got to his feet with minor strain on his sore legs and made his way back over to Huey. Webby followed him, taloned feet scratching divots into the dirt.

 

Wary, Scrooge slowed his footsteps as he came to a stop by the eldest triplet. The boy seemed peaceful, but still Scrooge gestured for Webby to stay a few feet away.

 

Kneeling, he prayed for a better outcome than the last as he placed a hand gently on the boys side. Perhaps luck was on his side, because Huey’s eyelids fluttered and opened blearily without further encouragement. Scrooge tried not to let the mental image of the sharp rows of fangs he knew were hiding in the boys mouth keep him from leaning a little closer in his kids line of sight.

 

Scrooge whispered to get the boys attention. His gaze wandered from the ground to the sky and finally up to Scrooge.  _ He must have hit his head _ , Scrooge thought, watching Huey’s pupils waver as he struggled to stay in the present.

 

“Huey.” Scrooge said softly, deciding to be blunt for the sake of lost time, “Yeh’ve been hit with magic, lad. I need yeh to be awake now.”

 

The boys eyes opened wider and he clumsily maneuvered himself into a wobbly sitting position. Without Scrooge’s say so, Webby darted forward to help keep Huey from toppling in his dizzy spell. 

 

“Webby darlin’,” Scrooge pat her head, “Do ye think ye can help Huey walk back te the plane?”

Webby nodded seriously, her blackened beak set in resolve.

 

“Wh’ h’ppen…?” Huey mumbled as Webby straightened him up and propped him on her shoulder. Thankfully those little claws on her wings were functional enough to keep her grip, “Wh’re is… D’wey an… Lou…”

 

Scrooge searched the boys head for bumps and found none, “They’re here, lad. I’ll be walking them back meself.” Scrooge thought with a further string of foul curse words in Magica’s name that Huey’s transformation must have affected his brain more than his body. He’d have to keep a close eye on him.

 

With daylight on it’s way in another few hours, Scrooge decided to withhold all questions about Huey’s bizarre behavior for later. He had four cursed children on his hands, and only a short amount of time to get them back to the Manor before taking them back into civilization would become a risky endeavour.

 

With that decision made, Scrooge led Webby and the slow-moving Huey back to where Louie was still crying with his eyes shut tight, and Dewey was still motionless beside him.

 

“Louie…?” Huey squinted his eyes at his youngest brother. “Wh’s wrong?”

 

Scrooge had to remind Louie not to look again as his head swiveled to where Huey’s voice emanated. “Huey! A-are you okay? We’re not okay! We were cursed, we-”

 

“Why are y’r eye’s clos’d?” Huey seemed a little more cognizant, which Scrooge was glad to see.

 

“I paralysed Dewey…” Louie sniffled, brows pinching over his hands.

 

Huey’s face went blank for a moment as he processed that. Meanwhile, Scrooge finished lifting the, much heavier, Dewey into the crook of one arm, and reached down to take one of Louie’s hands.

 

“Remember, lad.” Scrooge instructed sternly. “Don’nae look. Not until we can get ye a coverin’”

 

They walked on, Scrooge following the stars back to the plane with a few pointers from Webby, who was determined to help in any way she could. Huey kept switching between watching his feet stumble forwards, his walking was getting steadier over time, and staring in gobsmacked silence at Webby, Louie or Dewey.

 

“Louie…” Huey asked after twenty minutes of walking, “... Why is your beak green?”

 

“It’s  _ what!? _ ”

 

Scrooge sighed as, at last, the plane came into view. He let Louie gripe and fret about whatever changes had been made to his appearance while Webby and Huey did their best to indulge his pride. Meanwhile, Dewey’s stiff body had left his arm feeling tired and sore, but Scrooge tightened his grip as the plane loomed nearer, and Launchpads calls could be heard over the din of his kids.

 

At least, Scrooge thought, Magica was shallow enough that she’d left him all that truly mattered to him. 

And as long as he was living and breathing, he’d make sure his kids were freed of this curse. One way or another.


End file.
